


12.01 Ache

by dontbefancy



Series: Christmas Traditions - Klaine Advent 2014 [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:26:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2705588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbefancy/pseuds/dontbefancy





	12.01 Ache

Even more than Christmas Day itself, the day he and Kurt decorated their home for the holidays was always Blaine's favorite.

After a few years of marriage, they had settled on the proper time: decorate two weeks before; everything stayed up until New Year's Day. They had settled on how much to put up: one large tree in the living room seen from the street; one small tree in their bedroom that remained on all night—only for them; single candles in each window for their neighbors on Grove Street to enjoy, and a gentle smattering of tchotchkes no more cluttered looking than their day-to-day decorating. Oh, and greenery, velvet bows and candles on the mantle.

They were about half way done with the living room tree, singing along to Nat King Cole, sipping on non-alcoholic eggnog—thanks to the final year they indulged that ended with knocking, neighbors, and, well… nudity… in plain sight of the knocking neighbors; it was an evening neither Kurt nor Blaine wanted to repeat—and Blaine sat on the floor blindly unwrapping ornaments while Kurt fussed and tsked, considered and replaced each ball, bauble and bell.

Blaine saw the gold edging of it first, the peculiarly shaped ornament—supposedly hand-painted, supposedly from France—and gingerly lifted it from the tissue.

When Kurt reached down to take it from Blaine, the mood shifted as they shared a look. The look. The one Blaine understood.

Blaine stood and kissed Kurt's cheek. "Tell her I said 'hello.'"

Kurt nodded and fingered at the brightly colored bauble before turning back to the tree, the familiar ache of missing her in his eyes.

It wasn't hand-painted and it wasn't from France, but that's what Kurt's mother had told him long ago. What she had told Burt long ago to shush him when he groused at the gaudy piece that Kurt had especially picked out from a display at their local drug store. It hung on the Hummel tree every year since, hung by Kurt, front and center, no questions asked.

On their first Christmas together, Blaine pulled it out of the tissue, scrunched his nose and had it swiftly yanked from his hands.

"I'll put this one up. _Alone_."

It was bitter and Blaine felt horrible until after the tree was finished in silence and Kurt explained. And cried. And Blaine held him and promised that the piece would have a place of honor every year.

And it did. It was tradition. Their shared experience. Blaine would watch from the kitchen as Kurt had a private moment with his mother, with her memory, with whatever little bit of story Blaine could hear murmured into the branches of their tree.

But this year—"Blaine?"

"Yes, love?"

Kurt smiled, probably noticing the hint of powdered sugar on Blaine's nose from his not-so-surreptitious attempt at sneaking in just one more Mexican wedding cookie. He lifted the ornament to Blaine, an invitation to join him. "I think you should help me pick the right spot."

Blaine's heart flipped in his chest, a halo of light around Kurt's head as the tree glowed behind him, and whatever peace he'd come to this night softening every line of him. "Are you—"

And before he could finish, Kurt nodded and stretched out an arm to him. "I'm sure."


End file.
